In a mornings terror I awoke, my breath hard and raspy. I can smell the dankness of my sweat that is currently running down my forehead. I raise my hand gently wipe away the sweat before plopping back down into the comfort of my bed. I turn my head to the right and see white. A white wall, a white pillow, a white blanket and sheet, and I can see my nose, which to me is inevitably white. I turn my head to the left and see white again. A white wall, a white door, a white ceiling, the window frame is white, even the plastic that surrounds the screen of the television is white. I pull back the white sheets and examine myself and realize that I have not broken the trend of this god awful bleak whiteness in the room. My clothes are simple. A white shirt and white pajama pants. I lift the hem of my pants to reveal the white of my boxers. Why is everything so god damn white?

The door opens to reveal a man walking through carrying keys. He too is wearing white.

"Good morning Mr. Anderson," He says to me with false happiness. "Is everything alright? Our monitors showed that had a heightened brain wave frequency and a quickened heart beat. The monitor also showed an increased amount of perspiration and labored breathing. Might I ask what is troubling you?"

'No.' "I fine thank you. I just had a dream that I was running on a track in the fresh air. 'That's a lie.' You know how those things can excite some one these days with no fresh air available and all." I replied with equal false happiness.

The man smiled and bowed. "Then good feelings all around." I merely nodded. God I was sick of that saying. "Now come along Mr. Anderson. You have very special appointment with the doctor today. You have to get your shots so you can go to a different, bigger, better complex. You always complain about this one and we've finally decided since your behavior is so excellent that we're going to send you away."

'Oh joy. This is just a keyword for my death.'

I nodded and got up from the bed. I walked over to my in wall dresser and removed today's outfit which surprisingly was white. I quickly dressed myself and followed the man whom only I refer to as a keeper of the sleep.

There are many keeper of the sleep here in this small complex. One may ask why I refer to them as keeper of the sleep and that is solely because I believe that they are the ones that make sure we are never to find out the truth, the truth of what this complex really is, a harvesting ground for fresh human organs. A shock you might think but to many, myself included, there are many of these harvesting plants around the world. This is just one of the many. But why have such a place? That is another common question that is asked. Simply because the demand of organs is so high and the supply so low. It is much simpler to keep up with the demand by having complexes like these. When some needs a new kidney, they simpler take a DNA sample of the person that needs a kidney and they match with some one who lives in one of the complexes. When the match is found they take that person out of the complex and virtually cut them open while they are still alive and under little sedation and take the kidney. Why have the person still alive and barely sedated? Simple, you do not want to ruin an organ by having it filled with unhealthy drugs that will guarantee it for failure. The organ is much better and more healthy if the person is still alive and awake when it is taken from them.

The keeper of the sleep leads me down a white corridor that I have never seen before. He sits me down in a white chair and hands me a white piece of paper and white pencil.

"The doctor wants to know how you feel about this place." The keeper of the sleep says to me. "That way we can make improvements to make it better."

'So this is what I'm supposed to write my last words on.'

"Why is everything here so white?" A put a big sheepish smile on my face trying to make the question seem as naive as possible.

The keeper of the sleep's smile falters but is retained in an instant. "It's better for the eyes."

'Lie.'

"Oh," I say in a child like manner. "I didn't know that. I thought that this dreary color was just supposed to up the chances of suicide." I smile at my little joke though it seems it wasn't funny to him. He frowns largely and grits his teeth. I think I heard him growl but I'm not sure. He soon regains his composure and outs his false smile back trying to hide the veil that lurks within him.

"Whatever would make you think that Mr. Anderson?"

"Please call me Drew. Mr. Anderson is far to formal. And the only reason I thought that is because why would we want to live here if the sole purpose is to have the organs cut out of us while we're still alive and awake."

His eyes squint and his lips purse together. I can see the color drain from his face. Oops. Seems that I might have awakened the beast that lay within the lamb of the keeper.

"Now why would you ever think of such a silly thing?" He says to me with his teeth stuck together in anger. With that he walks away.

So here I sit, in this white chair, in this white hallway, in this white complex, underground, in the year 2025, on the day of August 11, writing what I know in some strange hope that some one might read this and try to help those of us that are trapped in the complex. The attempt may be futile but at least I tried. Better to do something rather than nothing.

My name is Drew Anderson, I was born the day May 22 in the year 1989. I watched the world collapse before my eyes and tried to escape but my escape led me to the complex. To who ever reads this, please remember me, remember me as the lost sole who tried to help the rest, and please try, do try to stop the horridness of the complex. And remember kind person who is reading this, don't let your ignorance and pride stop you from believing this for your ignorance and your pride are the biggest keepers of the sleep of all.

I hope u like this story. I think it's kinda cool (even though it's a lot like the movie The Island). Well I hope you liked it .

If you liked this story then please let me know by reviewing me. It lets me know what I need to improve and what my readers think of my work. So if you could please.............................................or else (pulls cuddly teddy bear from closet) Mr. Snuffles ges it. MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA................................................HA.